


haunted by ill angels

by my_infinite_variety (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alpha Scott, Chaptered, Dead Allison Argent, Dead Kate Argent, Dead Peter Hale, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Dreams and Nightmares, Erica Reyes Lives, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Forehead Kisses, Ghosts, Hurt Derek, M/M, Mentioned Laura Hale, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Derek Hale, POV Multiple, POV Stiles Stilinski, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Panic Attacks, Protective Derek Hale, Road Trips, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Feels Guilty, Trauma, Vernon Boyd Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/my_infinite_variety
Summary: Stiles and Derek have been on their road trip for a three months when Derek decides to stay with a pack in Nebraska for a few days. It starts out as a friendly visit, but the land holds dark secrets and Stiles can't help but find himself right in the middle of them.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Edgar Allan Poe's poem "Dream-Land"  
> I have a few notes before we start:  
> 1\. Erica and Boyd are alive and well.  
> 2\. Allison Argent is dead.  
> 3\. Kate Argent is dead.  
> 4\. Peter Hale is dead.  
> 5\. Malia Tate doesn't exist  
> 6\. Sheriff Stilinski is dead. Read the earlier parts in this series to know more details on that.  
> 7\. Derek is an alpha. The pack as we know it is split into two. Derek is Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Cora, and Chris' alpha. Scott is Jackson, Lydia, Ethan, Aidan, and Stiles' alpha (for now). These two packs live on the same territory.  
> 8\. Stiles is aware that he's a spark, but to the extent that he's aware that he can manipulate mountain ash. That's it. We don't like Deaton.  
> 9\. This isn't a Scott-positive story  
> 10\. Stiles is 19 in this, since it is post-high school graduation and he was held back in elementary school before he was diagnosed with ADHD.  
> 11\. I don't own teen wolf or any of its original characters. i do, however, own the characters i have created.  
> 12\. I hope you enjoy!

Trees passed Stiles' passenger window in a quick succession, his eyes going a bit unfocused with the quickness of the car. Derek, for all of his insistence that he was a safe driver, preferred to go a brisk sixty miles per hour on back roads with one hand on the wheel. Most of the time, this was exciting and allowed Stiles to roll down the windows and blast Derek's least favorite playlist. Derek's grumpy face was a national treasure, especially when Stiles was the one to cause it. 

But Derek had been on the phone for the past half hour and Stiles was getting bored. The kind of bored that made him tap his fingers persistently against his thigh and consider snatching the archaic device from the werewolf's hand. The phone was practically a relic, something you'd expect your grandfather to haul around in a case attached to his belt. Stiles suspected snapping the stupid thing wouldn't help. In fact, it would probably make Derek mope for a week straight, but he couldn't deny that it would probably make him feel better for a solid hour. 

The alpha persisted in pressing the phone to his ear with his right hand , steering the car with his left hand, and offering no hands to Stiles for him to hold. It was a shame, truly. Stiles enjoyed playing with the alpha’s fingers when the driving became too monotonous. Derek's rough fingertips were a contrast against Stiles' soft skin and it often gave him the chance to pass the time with inappropriate fantasies that would never see the light of day.

When Derek finally hung up and tossed his cracked phone into the cup holder, Stiles opened his mouth to whinge about the lack of attention he was getting. He was beaten to the punch by Derek (which shouldn’t have happened, since he could have won an Olympic gold medal in talking and getting Derek to start conversation was usually like pulling teeth).

“We’re staying with another pack for a few days,” Derek said, and then he made a sharp turn onto a gravel driveway that led deep into the Nebraska woods. Obviously, this made Stiles collide bodily with the passenger door. However, the ache in his shoulder didn’t distract him from the questions running through his mind at full speed.

“Another pack? Who are they? Why are they in the middle of nowhere? This is the 21st century, you know. They could interact with humans like normal ‘wolves. Is that who you were on the phone with? How do you have their number? Were you alpha posturing over the phone? How long is ‘a few-?’” Stiles rattled off, trying to get through as many questions as possible before Derek inevitably cut him off.

“Stiles,” Derek said calmly, which made Stiles smile.

“Yes, Derek?” Stiles asked, cocking his head curiously and deliberately. For a moment, Stiles thought he may have seen Derek’s eye twitch.

“They can hear you.”

Stiles didn't take responsibility for the laughter. It was completely Derek's fault. He was the one that had been hiding a comedian under his scowl.

The driveway widened into a gravel lot that held at least ten other cars, Derek pulling into a space an acceptance distance from the crowd of people that had collected in front of the house. Stiles, for all of his experience with strange werewolves, wasn't that nervous about meeting so many at one time. In retrospect, he probably should have been.

The two of them clambered out of the Camaro, their bags of clothes slung over Derek’s shoulders, and Stiles felt dozens of pairs of eyes on him immediately. There was a mixture of blue and gold in the crowd, but he felt unwelcome in a way that he wasn’t used to. It was like his presence had personally offended their culture or way of life. He couldn’t recall pissing off this many wolves at one time, but wasn’t unfamiliar with accidents or gaps in his memory.

From the midst of growly werewolves, a collection of audible gasps came. Three kids, their ages seemingly between six and ten, rushed in between their adult caretakers and dodged reaching arms to get to Derek. The alpha werewolf looked both pleased and shocked, Derek hurriedly setting down their bags before holding out welcoming arms.

“Unca ‘Rek,” the youngest one exclaimed in excitement, all three jumping into his arms and clinging onto him in an attempt to get reacquainted. He knew the bunch of them must be scenting his companion, getting used to new scents and making sure that he was alright. The thought made his chest warm and he couldn’t help but snap a picture. He told himself it was for leverage. That was a lie.

“Kaiden, Anika, Syd, leave Derek alone. I’m sure he requires air to breathe like the rest of us,” someone spoke up, the man’s voice playful but firm in a way that made it clear he would not take no for an answer. The little were-babies leapt from Derek’s arms, rushing back into the crowd and into the arms of a blond man that seemed to be the one in charge of watching them.

“I don’t mind them, Fred,” Derek insisted, his voice relaxed but his body language the complete opposite. The Hale alpha, as the kids had scurried away, had placed himself closer to Stiles in a defensive position. It became clear that Derek hadn’t expected this kind of welcome and was prepared to protect his travelling companion.

A man stepped out of the crowd, his stance dominant and eyes flashing alpha red for a brief moment before returning to a cool, natural blue. He was tall and broad, his skin dark and his long curly black hair neatly braided in rows. His face was clean-shaven and his lips were curled in a way that implied he was amused. He looked kind, which was a trait he wasn’t familiar with in alphas. Derek was kind in a less obvious way. Scott was nice in an overly sweet way, but not kind and understanding when it counted. Stiles only hoped he grew wiser and kinder with age.

“You brought a Spark with you,” the man - Fred - said. He didn’t say it unkindly, but he was clearly wary of Stiles’ presence. Stiles furrowed his brows, familiar with the word but still unfamiliar with the meaning. After all, the information that he had a Spark at all had come from Deaton. He wasn’t known for his straight-forward answers and informative conversations.

“I mentioned Stiles on the phone,” Derek said, seemingly unsurprised by the other alpha’s statement. Stiles didn’t recall his name being mentioned, but his thoughts had been elsewhere for about 80% of Derek’s phone conversation anyway. “He’s harmless and I take full responsibility for him as alpha of the Hale pack.”

Stiles scoffed and parted his lips to insist that he wasn’t a child to be supervised, but Derek’s “open your mouth and see what happens” glare stopped him in his tracks. Derek didn’t use that glare as much as he did the others and the teen considered it a blessing that he didn’t break it out often. Stiles huffed indignantly to hold onto a smidgen of his dignity, but trusted the alpha’s judgement. He wasn’t going to mess up a chance to take a proper shower and sleep in a proper bed.

The pack and Fred watched the exchange with interest and it was clear that many of them found it amusing. The mood lightened just a bit and those that were persisting in flashing their eyes let them fade to their natural colors.

“We trust that you will keep your pack in line, Derek,” Fred said, his voice warm. "I welcome you to my land as alpha of the Ellis pack." Another man slipped through the crowd to take his place at Fred’s side. He was just as tall and broad, but noticeably fairer and less built. His blonde hair was nearly translucent and cut into a trendy short style, the bangs swept back from his forehead. He looked like he didn’t get out nearly as much as his companion, but the bags under his eyes made it clear he pulled his weight. Stiles didn’t know much about pack life but he could recognize the bond the alpha and this person had; he was the alpha’s mate.

"Thank you, Fred," Derek said, then nodded to the alpha's mate respectfully. “Kailan.”

Kailan smiled, his thin lips parting to flash white teeth. Stiles couldn’t decide if this gesture was kind or cautionary. “Derek.”

Fred turned to face his pack, clearly making an announcement about them being there. “Derek and the Spark will be staying with us for a few days. Make sure to treat them with respect and I am sure that our guests will do the same,” he said, his voice carrying clearly to the thirty pack members he was addressing. His voice carried a weight that only an alpha’s could. Derek’s voice did the same when he spoke to Erica, Boyd, and Isaac during training. He’d never used it on Stiles, though Stiles could attribute that to Scott calling dibs on him when their packs split in two. He couldn't imagine Derek commanding something like that if they weren't part of his pack. “Please, allow my emissary to show the two of you to your room.”

Stiles shook himself out of his thoughts, eyes finding the woman giving him a kind smile and beckoning him with a ring-adorned hand. She was the complete opposite of Deaton, her pale skin covered in intricate tattoos that seemed to shimmer and move. Stiles was immediately curious about the process, the reasons behind them, and where he could get one himself. Her eyes were slanted in a way that made her seem like a runway model, but her short stature made that impossible. Her dark hair was cut short, shaved at the sides with the longer strands at the top coiffed into a seamless style.

“Come with me,” she said, and led them away after Derek gathered up their bags. The expansive three-story house seemed similar to a standard colonial home with the infinite number of windows, but it was bigger than even the Hale house. The front doors were wide open, leading into the foyer that contained two doorways on either side and a large staircase. The right side seemed to lead into a living space and the left seemed to expand into a kitchen. However, Stiles only caught a glimpse before being led up two flights of stairs and into the living quarters.

The emissary was silent as she led them past what seemed to be dozens of doors, some adorned with signs and letters while others were blank. She only stopped when they reached the back portion of the floor. It was silent and the decorative shelves and tables that sat in the hallway were covered in dust.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” she said, flashing him a grin and giving a curtsy before rushing off to do whatever else she was meant to be doing.

“So,” Stiles started, looking down at the dusty doorknob of their bedroom for the next few days, “They seem nice.”

Derek grunted and opened the door, yanking sheets off of furniture and turning on the bedside lamps to give the room a bit of light. Stiles walked in and immediately sneezed, his eyes squinting against the dust in the air.

“I thought you knew these people,” he complained, sitting down on the old sheets and yanking off his Converse in favor of getting ready for bed. It didn’t exactly seem right that they were placed in a room so far away from everyone else in the house.

“I do,” Derek said shortly, yanking his shirt over his head and proceeding to kick both his jeans and shoes off. He slipped past Stiles to sit against the headboard, clad in only his boxer-briefs and his socks. Stiles took that as encouragement to get just as undressed, hurriedly trying to slip his skinny jeans off and accidentally getting caught in them.

Derek laughed, the sound something that both made him smile and blush. He quickly got himself untangled, leaving his discarded jeans on the floor and allowing the flannel he put over his graphic t-shirt to join them. He crawled into bed after the alpha, in just underwear and a shirt. He didn’t sleep in socks like Derek, the weirdo. Stiles tucked himself next to Derek despite their sock differences, Derek’s hand rubbing between his shoulder blades and Stiles’ forehead resting against the alpha’s hip.

He fell asleep like that, trying to not think about Sparks and suspicious wolves listening to their every word.

-

Waking up in an unfamiliar room that smelled distinctly like his deceased grandmother shouldn’t have been as pleasant as it was, but Stiles had never been one to do things normally. Waking up with his face smushed into Derek Hale’s broad shoulder was probably the most pleasant thing that had happened in the past two weeks.

They had been sleeping in the same bed (or back seat) for the past couple of months and Stiles couldn’t complain about much, other than the lack of room to sprawl when Derek squeezed him like an octopus and the lack of sleepy kisses. Derek had been decidedly conservative with his kisses since the rather extensive makeout session on the side of the road, probably actively convincing himself Stiles was planning on saying “sike” and ditching the alpha at a gas station while the Spark drove away with his car. He wasn’t planning on it, honestly, but the amount of time he was wasting not having hot makeout sessions with the werewolf he was traveling with gave him time to think.

Stiles, an expert in getting away from Derek without waking him, wriggled out of his grip and carefully stepped onto the hardwood floor. He looked back at him consideringly, a smile creeping over his features before he leaned down and gave Derek a gentle kiss on his forehead. The alpha werewolf, who was supposed to be a fierce opponent to all who dared to oppose him, scrunched up his nose and huffed petulantly in his sleep.

Stiles rolled his eyes and rummaged through his bag for his phone and a pair of pants that would make him decent enough to get food. To his surprise, he found a pair of Derek’s flannel sleep pants before he found a pair of his own. He pulled them on without much thought, tied the strings tightly to keep them up around his hips, tucked his phone into one of the pockets, and crept out into the hallway. He got lost a couple of times before finally finding the stairs, his feet pounding against the carpet as he rushed to get to the first floor. He remembered a glimpse of the kitchen when he came inside, so finding it wasn’t much of an issue. However, the kitchen was also filled with six werewolves trying to enjoy breakfast and he wasn’t confident Derek was close enough to save him if a grumpy teenage werewolf decided to munch on him like a milk bone.

“Um, hi?” He greeted awkwardly, hand rising in a half-wave. They all collectively stared at him for around fifteen seconds before a pale, redheaded woman pulled out a stool at the very end of the island and dropped a plate of biscuits and gravy onto the marble with a clatter. Then it was like the ice was broken.

“Morning,” the grumpy, hunched-over teenager muttered out from under his hood, scooping a forkful of biscuit and gravy into his mouth as soon as he was finished speaking. The blond man that he had seen yesterday caring for the kids walked past with his own plate, pulling the teenagers hood from his head to reveal a head full of magenta curls.

“If you’re embarrassed by your mistake, Ryan, then maybe you’ll listen to your mother and me when we tell you something next time,” the blond man said, his voice sugar sweet with something akin to ‘I told you so.’ Then he turned to Stiles, who was still standing in the doorway like a very inconvenient roadblock. “Come sit down. We don’t bite this early in the morning.”

Stiles met his grey eyes, gave a tentative smile, and couldn’t bring himself to refuse. So he nodded quickly and hurried to sit in the seat he’d been assigned. In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising this strange blond man had been assigned to take care of the pups. He had a way of interacting with people that made them agreeable.

Stiles dug into the biscuits and gravy with a vengeance, the taste of home-cooked food a big improvement. He and Derek had been living on cheesy snacks in bags and cans for three months. A man had to have some diversity in his diet occasionally. He was surprised the big bad wolf himself hadn’t been drawn downstairs by the smell alone, but he supposed sleeping in the very back corner of the house had its downsides. The poor man probably didn’t even realize there was any food being offered at all.

The crowd in the kitchen had thinned out by the time Stiles emerged from his food-induced daze, leaving only him and the magenta-haired teen he faintly remembered being called Ryan. Stiles, who was nothing if he wasn’t a polite guest, got up and rinsed off his plate (which didn’t do much since he’d practically licked it clean). He didn’t spot a dishwasher anywhere and didn’t expect there to be one in a house in the middle of nowhere, so he left the plate in the sink and turned around to return to his room.

However, a very Ryan-shaped roadblock stood in his way, their faces inches apart with the werewolf’s eyes glowing a strong gold. Ryan couldn’t have been older than sixteen, but it was clear he would have no trouble taking down Stiles if given the chance. Right now seemed like the perfect chance. Stiles’s adam's apple bobbed.

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles said, drawing out the ‘y’s as a nervous habit. “What’re you doing there?”

“You smell wrong,” he growled, a threatening rumble coming from deep in his chest.

“That is no excuse to pop my personal bubble,” Stiles said with a shaky laugh, his lower back pressing painfully against the counter. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you personal boundaries?”

The growling only became louder at the mention of his parents. Stiles cursed himself mentally for mentioning pack members with an agitated wolf in his face. Thankfully, his knight in unwashed clothes from three days prior stepped into the kitchen with red eyes and a glare to challenge all other glares. The teenage beta backed off, recognizing when he was beaten, glancing back to meet Stiles’ eyes before disappearing through what looked to be a side door. Derek immediately rushed to see if Stiles was alright, hands running over whatever bare skin he could reach as if he was replacing whatever scent Ryan had left on him.

“Calm down, I’m fine.” Stiles tried to soothe the alpha, but it was clear he was still shaken at seeing Stiles at the mercy of another ‘wolf. Derek dropped his head into the crook of Stiles’ neck. “I’m still in one sexy piece, no harm done.”

“He had you pinned,” Derek huffed out against Stiles’ skin, his hands finally stilling on Stiles’ waist. “He was threatening you against the wishes of his alpha.”

“Yup,” Stiles chirped, one hand coming up to thread through Derek’s hair while the other sat on his back comfortingly. “And then you ran him off like the big scary alpha you are. Good boy.” Derek pinched his hip in retaliation, making the human yelp in surprise rather than pain. “Bad boy! Paws off!”

Derek made a noise that could be interpreted as many things, but the Encyclopedia of Derek that Stiles had compiled over the last three months told him it was a laugh. The alpha stepped away as he was instructed, Stiles making a face as soon as Derek could see it.

“You need a shower,” he said, telling himself honesty was the best policy. He didn’t think he could take another day of sink baths in dirty gas station bathrooms. Derek lifted the armpit of his shirt to his nose and recoiled at the smell. Stiles barked out a laugh. “Exactly what I mean. You go first, I’ll get in after.”

Let the record show that despite his desire to join Derek in the shower, John Stilinski taught him to be a gentleman. The thought of his dad made Stiles smile fondly. Even two months prior, he would have become a shell at the thought of his dad’s face or name. Now, with Derek’s help and time away from Beacon Hills, he was getting better and learning to appreciate the memories he had left. Derek seemed to notice his state of mind, leaning in to bestow a rare kiss onto his lips.

“Be careful,” he said when he pulled back, their noses barely brushing.

“Aren’t I always?” Stiles asked with a cocky grin, pressing a kiss of his own to Derek’s cheek and looking down when his phone vibrated. He fumbled the device while pulling it out of his pants pocket, Derek snatching it out of midair before it slammed against the tile. He lifted it, going to hand it back to Stiles when something on the screen made him frown. Stiles studied Derek’s face in confusion, pulling the phone from his hand and looking at the screen for himself.

Scott’s name flashed, the phone vibrating rhythmically in Stiles’ hand as he tried to find his breath. His best friend - or who used to be his best friend - hadn’t even sent him a text since Stiles left Beacon Hills after the funeral. In fact, Scott hadn’t even shown up to the funeral at all and that was the reason Stiles hadn’t tried to make contact himself. Now, faced with a conversation he had been dreading for months, Stiles did what he thought his dad would have wanted.

“Hello?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles answers the phone and does something he regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter caused a bit of drama on tumblr, so it better be worth it.  
> also, fun fact: half of it was written while listening to john mulaney stand-up, the other half was written while watching "the fox and the hound"

Stiles thought he’d answered the phone because he’s a masochist. Or maybe he thought he’d answered it because deep inside he wanted Scott to try and justify being a dick. Or _maybe_ he thought he’d answered it because he’s a good person and wants his dad to be proud of him. Or maybe, just maybe, he thought he’d just answered it out of pure curiosity. He determined — in the time that it took Scott to explain how surprised he was that Stiles answered the phone — that all of these options were both true and kind of sad.

“Is this actually Stiles?” Scott babbled on the other side of the phone, the sound of his voice just as childlike and innocent as Stiles remembered. It made his hands shake. “Oh my god, you answered. I thought you wouldn’t answer or you were dead or something. I just heard from Lydia that you ran off with Derek and I called as soon as she told me.”

It was silent for a moment like Scott expected Stiles to add something to the conversation. Then he must have been desperate to fill the silence with the sound of his own voice, so he started talking again. Stiles was reminded of his kicks in high school on too much Adderall, hyper fixated on supernatural texts and new comic editions.

“Why did you leave?” Scott continued on. “I came back for a weekend and the house was empty, so I thought you went on vacation. But vacations don’t last three months.”

“Right,” Stiles said flatly, feeling Derek’s hand tentatively come to rest on his shoulder. “Vacations don’t last three months. Because people don’t just take vacations _the week after their dad dies_.”

“You know what I mean,” Scott protested like his fumbling words were the exact opposite of how he’d intended them. “I mean, you were just gone! What was I supposed to think? That you ran off with another alpha? You’re in _my_ pack, Stiles. You need—”

“I don’t need to do anything,” Stiles corrected him harshly, the hand on his shoulder tightening. He could have looked to Derek for support in any other situation, but all he was seeing was red. He was shaking in fury. “ _Pack_ is there when you need them, Scott. I needed you and you gave me some bullshit excuses and then forgot about me for three months. We’re not _pack_ , Scott. Not anymore.”

There was buzzing in the air, but Stiles wasn’t paying attention to any of it. All of his attention was on the sputtering noise coming from the other end of the phone. “I was busy!”

The dam broke and suddenly Stiles was shouting, too far gone to care about pack politics or being polite during his stay. “Too busy to attend the funeral of the man that practically raised you after your dad left?! Too busy to say goodbye to the man that loaned you the money to go to the stupid ass school _that was your excuse for not showing up?!_ How about you take your excuses and your self-righteous bullshit and shove it!”

There was the sound of glass shattering and the kitchen darkened. Stiles, who was panting with the effort it took to get all of that out, nearly dropped his phone when he realized what was happening. Everything that had been on the table, counters, and in the sink was not suspended in mid-air. The light bulbs that had been part of the sconces lining the walls were now in pieces on the ground, sharp glass littering the tile. Derek, who was still clutching Stiles’ shoulder, went white as a sheet and gasped out his name before slumping to the ground. 

“S- shit,” Stiles stammered, dropping to his knees and tossing his phone to the side to make sure it didn’t cause any distractions. The anger that had previously flooded his body left, quickly replaced by distress and concern. He’d been in plenty of situations where werewolves needed a bit of TLC, but Derek looked like he had gone days without sleep or food. A sinking feeling in his stomach told him he'd probably caused it, but he had no idea how to fix it. 

A hand firmly grasped his upper arm, dragging him up and away from an unconscious Derek and out into the foyer. Stiles, almost frantic in his attempts to stay, kicked and clawed at the person pulling him away. His chest was tight and his eyes were full of tears of panic, Stiles too caught up in his escape attempts to recognize the panic attack. 

He was finally yanked through the doorway and into the foyer; his last glimpse of Derek was his head being gently lifted off the ground by the pack emissary. His captor, clearly tired of his struggling, flung Stiles into the opposite wall of the foyer with about as much tenderness as she could muster. In his rattled and scrambled state, Stiles assumed that this ‘wolf must be the alpha’s second, but his back hit the drywall with a thump before he could continue his train of thought. Stiles slid down the wall with as much control as he could manage, hands fumbling to pull the collar of his t-shirt away from his throat and lips forming wheezy numbers. 

It felt like hours were passing in mere seconds and Stiles quickly gave up on the numbers, his head dipping down to hang between his bent knees. The fear of loss and of _himself_ was all-consuming and Stiles reflected in a series of fragmented thoughts that it hadn’t been this bad in years. Of course, he had never practically drained the life out of someone before so he should have been given a bit of a pass. Tears were streaming down his face from what Stiles could tell (he could taste the salt) and there was a voice in his peripheral that could have been anyone. Was there someone with him? A friend?

“—ark. Look at me, Spark. Breathe with me,” the voice said soothingly and Stiles tentatively raised his head, making eye contact with a kind-looking woman. She looked similar to someone Stiles had met previously; she had warm brown skin, dark eyes, and full lips. Her understanding expression seemed to make it impossible to not take her instructions, so he did. They took deep breaths together, some of them stuttering and shallow on his part in the beginning. However, his confidence grew with time and the monotony of their actions allowed his mind to clear. 

“Thank you,” he rasped when he felt he was in the clear, his head tipping back against the drywall. “I just— thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Spark,” the woman said, sitting down facing him with her knees bent up in a similar way to his.

“I want to see Derek,” he said like he hadn’t been gasping for air minutes beforehand. Stiles, for all his flaws, had things like priorities. “Please.”

“You have to wait until Rui is done with your alpha.” The second tried to soothe him, but the pressure of not knowing if Derek would be okay made his chest hurt. At least he knew what the mysterious emissary’s name was, but his consolation prize was nothing compared to being held by Derek and told everything was going to be alright.

“What’s your name?” Stiles asked, trying his best to distract himself from the reality that he was at fault. 

“Janine,” she said absentmindedly like she was listening to what was happening in the other room instead of focusing on what Stiles was asking. He didn’t blame her. If he had werewolf hearing then he would be eavesdropping too. He could hear the murmur of voices with his measly human ears, but no specific words, so he relied on Janine's facial expressions. 

She didn’t look worried like something was going wrong, but she did look tense. Stiles supposed this could have been because of him, whether it was through his panic attack or the fight he gave while she had dragged him out of the kitchen. He felt a flash of guilt, remembering the kicks and scratches he’d handed out. She looked okay, no bruises or cuts to be found from what he could tell, but that didn’t change the fact that it had probably hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he tentatively said. He didn’t think she was angry, but he had been taught to apologize if he’d done something wrong. 

“It’s fine, Spark.” She brushed off his apology like it was nothing and he supposed it was to her. There were other things to worry about in her eyes, like keeping an eye on the kid who had just almost killed a visiting alpha. Stiles knew that he’d become a threat in their eyes and he knew Derek would want him to play it safe until they could be together again. But he didn’t know what they would do after they were reunited. Leave? Stay and fix things? 

This giant mixture of possibilities enveloped his mind until the emissary left the kitchen and approached Stiles and Janine. Janine, looking relieved to see Rui, stood up immediately. Stiles took that as his cue to stand as well, scrambling to his feet clumsily and looking to the emissary as if she had all the answers. 

“Alpha Hale will be okay,” Rui began, “with time. I’ve given him the energy to regain consciousness and speak with Alpha Ellis, but he will need rest and food after their conversation is done.” She looked at Stiles, her piercing eyes making him shiver. “Come with me. We have much to discuss ourselves. You may return to your brother’s side, Janine.”

Janine flashed a smile at the emissary, probably thankful to be dismissed from babysitting duty, and departed from the foyer to join Derek and Fred. Stiles, who was still shaken up by the entire morning he’d had, swallowed hard when Rui pressed a hand to his shoulder. 

“Walk with me,” Rui told him, her voice soft but firm, “and we’ll see if you can see your alpha again.”

Stiles didn’t quite know if that was a threat or a message from the alpha, but he nodded anyway and walked alongside the emissary. They left the house through the front door, the ‘wolves working the land and doing their daily duties watching the pair with interest. Stiles ducked his head in embarrassment. He’d never been stared at like that; like he was a circus act. It was mortifying. Knowing that they had heard his fight with Scott in the kitchen and that they had probably heard about the incident with Derek made everything simultaneously make more sense and make him more embarrassed. They continued to walk through the lawn in silence, then into the tall grass that grew at the edge of the forest.

“You’re a Spark,” Rui said when they had reached the treeline. Instead of stopping and not venturing into a dark Nebraska forest, the emissary gave him a sly look and continued into the cover of the trees.

Stiles groaned and continued to follow her despite his experiences in the woods back home. “From what everyone is telling me.”

“But you don’t know what that means,” Rui observed, the woman shoving her hands into the big pocket of her bleach-stained sweatshirt. It had _Harvard_ across the chest and Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised if she had actually gone to Harvard instead of picking it up at a thrift shop.

“No,” Stiles said eventually, digging himself out of his own irrelevant thoughts. “No, I don’t. I know I can use mountain ash and make it do what I want. I know I can make things float and make light bulbs pop. I know I can almost kill my alpha without meaning to. But I don’t know what any of that _means_.”

It was frustrating, being kept in the dark like a child. Stiles hadn’t been a child in almost three years and nothing would erase the events that had shaped him into something different. He was quieter now, after everything. He knew Derek had noticed the silences between them, something that would have never happened when they first met. Maybe he was more settled. Stiles thought he was just more caught up in his head. 

“A Spark is a magic user,” Rui began, sensing his frustration and clearly combating it with a gentle voice and calm demeanor. “But Sparks can’t create their own magical energy, so they create bonds with other creatures to draw their energy from.”

“Is that what I did with Derek?” Stiles asked. “Did I bond with him and use his energy?”

She nodded. “Sparks, strong ones, usually present at around sixteen and don’t form bonds until their mid-twenties. Some sparks with weak cores never discover their own nature and go through life never involving themselves in magic. You are one of the strongest Sparks I’ve seen in my years practicing.”

Stiles didn’t know if he should be terrified or flattered. He settled for asking more questions. “But I’m nineteen. What didn’t I, you know?”

“Presenting can happen in a number of ways, Stiles. It can be in subtle ways, like moving mountain ash.” She gave him a pointed look.

“But I didn’t form any bonds with anyone,” he said in confusion. Or, at least, he didn’t remember forming bonds.

She laughed like his cluelessness was something she had dealt with before. “Manipulating things that already contain magic, like mountain ash, don’t require another energy source. That’s why it’s a common way for Sparks to present.”

They walk for a few minutes in silence, Stiles practically stewing in the new information he had been presented. He’d formed a Spark bond with Derek, which wasn’t exactly a bad thing, except he’d almost drained the life out of him not even an hour previous and Stiles had no idea how to _not_ do that. He was pretty sure that right before almost killing his friend/boyfriend/something, he’d rejected Scott as his alpha which didn’t cause as much of a crisis as he’d expected it to. Now he was frolicking through the woods with a powerful magic-wielding emissary that looked like a Harvard dropout and could probably kill him and hide his body with no problem.

His day was going _fantastic_ if anyone was having any doubts so far.

“Do you know why Sparks are so good at being in leadership positions within packs?” Rui asked, breaking the silence and shaking him out of his own head.

“I bet you’re gonna tell me,” Stiles huffed out, his lips curling into a rueful grin. 

Rui nudged him in the arm with her elbow, like they were old friends taking a stroll instead of two people in the middle of the woods discussing dangerous magic. “They can form bonds with the alpha. This, combined with being accepted into the alpha’s pack officially, can open bonds with the rest of the pack and create an even distribution of power,” she explained slowly like she was talking to a kindergartner. “This makes sure that things like what happened to Alpha Hale don’t happen too often. A pack of even five or six is enough to maintain a moderately complex spell for around ten minutes before any members feel any strain.”

“So,” Stiles said slowly, “what you’re saying is that I need to be accepted into Derek’s pack officially.”

“When Alpha Hale is rested and strong enough to travel back to California,” Rui confirmed, and then they were back at the tree line like Stiles hadn't just been walking in a straight line for fifteen minutes. Stiles stared at her, mouth agape, but she just winked and led him into the knee-deep grass.

She was twenty paces ahead when it occurred to him that he should probably be following, jogging after her with an exclamation of, “Wait for me!”

She didn’t, but he wasn’t exactly surprised.

-

Derek was waiting for him on the front steps, his face still a bit paler than usual and the bags under his eyes more pronounced. He looked like he'd been through the ringer or in a boxing match with another alpha. Stiles had done that, had made him fall to the floor unconscious with exhaustion.  But he was standing and Stiles nearly changed that by barreling into him.

His arms wrapped tightly around the alpha, trying to express how sorry he was through a hug that could melt even Derek Hale’s heart. Derek stumbled a bit but Stiles held him up the best he could with what little muscles he had accumulated in the past three years of werewolf pack managing. Rui gave them their space and Stiles could only hope that the others that had been watching before gave them the same.

Derek pressed a chaste kiss to Stiles’ temple when he regained his balance and murmured, “I’m alright, it’s fine.”

Stiles may have choked out a broken, “I thought I’d killed you,” into Derek’s shoulder but he would never admit it on pain of death. Those wobbly words were meant for two people on the planet and none others would have the pleasure. Derek didn’t reply, only rocked Stiles gently as the wind made the chimes on the porch ring. Stiles rubbed Derek’s back through his shirt in gentle circular motions, right where the triskelion tattoo laid.

Neither of them quite knew who was being comforted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's point of view after waking up.

“-think he’s coming around.”

Derek squeezed his eyes shut against the natural light shining through the windows of the kitchen, a headache pounding behind his eyes. The shuffling of feet and the murmur of voices sounded sharp and shrill in his ears and he curled onto his side, knees coming up and hands weakly clasping over his ears. 

It smelled like cooked hamburger meat and smoke, something that made Derek shudder, but he reminded himself that he wasn’t even close to Beacon Hills anymore. That night felt like a lifetime ago and Laura had made sure it felt that way, constantly giving Derek reasons to think of anything other than home. Beacon Hills was quiet, New York was constantly loud. Beacon Hills was small, New York was giant and filled with opportunity. Beacon Hills was filled with memories and filled funeral plots, New York had never had the pleasure of meeting Derek or any other Hale in history. He sent a silent thank you to Laura for giving him time and reasons to heal, remembering the days that even the scent of smoke or cooked meat would send him into anxiety attacks that even Laura couldn’t bring him down from. Now it just made him sad. 

All of his limbs felt awkward and burdensome, similar to when he was recovering from kanima poisoning or he’d just finished a long full moon run, but closer to the pleasantness side of the scale that the kanima poison resided on. His eyelids felt heavy and he felt tempted to fall back into unconsciousness, but a firm hand shaking him by the nape of his neck startled him out of his stupor. Derek, still an alpha despite him lying curled up on another pack’s kitchen floor, gave a fierce growl and opened his eyes in a squint to see Rui kneeling over him and Fred peering over her shoulder. There were two beta’s lurking somewhere else in the kitchen, just out of his line of sight. Derek could hear their heartbeats.

“Good morning, Alpha Hale,” Rui murmured, her lips curled into her signature grin. Derek on any other occasion would have grinned back, but he wasn’t feeling particularly cheerful at the moment. 

“Where’s Stiles?” He asked, rolling back onto his back and letting his head thump against the hard tile. It made his head jolt with pain and he withheld a wince. He didn’t want to seem too bent out of shape to see Stiles, preferring to see him sooner rather than later. After all, the 

Rui and Fred gave each other a glance that held a thousand words, the two of them seemingly sharing a singular thought. The last time Derek had stayed on Ellis land, the bond between the alpha and emissary had unnerved him. Now, all he saw was what he hoped his and Stiles’ connection would grow into (though admittedly in a more life-partner kind of way, even if he would never admit it to any living soul). Rui and Fred looked worried, which didn’t happen often but when it did it tended to make the people around them worry. Derek, in this scenario, was included.

Rui stood up straight and left the room soundlessly, Fred taking her place next to Derek like her absence was all part of the grand plan they’d devised in a look. Derek wanted to be concerned, but he’d never had a reason to doubt them before. 

“Derek,” Fred began, his deep voice giving Derek comfort and making the hair on his arms stand on end simultaneously. “Do you remember what happened before you went unconscious?”

Derek, still laying on the ground, forced himself up with a strained grunt into a sitting position. A beta he didn’t recognize approached and made sure he was steady before slinking back into the shadows where he’d been residing before. Just doing a simple task like sitting up took an amount of effort that made him pant like a dog. Derek thought Stiles would have been rattling off jokes and puns if he’d been there to witness it.

Stiles.

Stiles, who had been so worked up over Scott that he’d made household objects float and light blubs explode into a million tiny pieces. Stiles, who had drained pure energy from Derek to do such a thing. Stiles, who was probably wallowing in guilt and fear.

“I remember,” he said, his voice strong and his will even stronger, “and I want to know where Stiles is.”

“Rui is speaking with him about what he’s done and what his options are,” Fred reassured hurriedly like he thought Derek was sure to leap to his feet in a sudden show of strength and find Stiles himself. “We promise no harm will come to your Spark, as long as he abides by our rules and doesn’t bring any harm to my pack.”

“I don’t think we have him to worry about,” Derek bit out, a rumbling building in his chest at the thought of that teenage beta pining Stiles like prey. “Not after your pack member’s display this morning.”

“Which beta?” Fred asked immediately, clearly surprised that there had been an altercation at all. Derek could feel his concerned stare as he dropped his head between his hunched shoulders in exhaustion. “No one has made me aware.”

“Ryan,” Derek said, remembering the spitfire of a kid that he’d met the first time he’d stayed. “He was pinning Stiles against the cabinets. I scared him off before anything unchangeable happened.”

Fred let out a sigh of relief like he’d expected Ryan to do worse than growl a bit and scurry off. “You know how betas are in the presence of unfamiliar Sparks in this neck of the wood, Derek. Especially when this pack already has both an emissary and an Alpha’s mate. Stiles smells and is seen as a threat.”

“That doesn’t excuse your pack’s behavior,” Derek insisted, firm in his belief that both him and Stiles had been wronged. “He’s a guest that has been placed under my protection. He didn’t threaten or harm anyone.”

Derek peered up when Fred didn’t reply, his eyes meeting an unimpressed stare. “You’re as weak as a kitten right now because of that boy, Derek. I know how you feel about him, but-”

“We’re friends, Fred,” Derek said, voice low and threatening, “but don’t think for one second that I would choose you over Stiles. He is untrained but still an innocent in all of this. Don’t let your instincts overrun your common sense.”

The alpha didn’t look surprised or hostile. In fact, he looked rather impressed with Derek’s resolve. “You’ve grown up, my friend.”

“I had to.”

They stared at each other for a long period of time, Derek searching for emotion or opinion in Fred’s eyes. He didn’t find much and he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, the two of them had always been terrible at being on the same page or wavelength. Then Fred reached out of hand to help Derek up, Derek hesitating before taking it. He grunted as he was yanked up, his limbs still feeling a bit like Jell-O. He could stand at least (with the assistance of Fred) but now it all came down to convincing Stiles that he was okay.

“He will have to be monitored and trained by Rui while he stays,” Fred told him before they started moving, keeping a firm grip on Derek’s waist. “That’s my only condition.”

“But what about Kai-?”

“Kailan’s Spark is strong enough to keep the wards up around the property and nothing more,” Fred said, no judgment in his voice. It was clear that he loved his mate with everything he had. “Rui has experience with strong and inexperienced students like your Spark and she has the magic to protect herself if needed.”

Derek hesitated, wanting to defend Stiles against the assumption that he would hurt someone in his pursuit for knowledge, but he knew that with inexperience came accidents. “I accept your terms.”

Fred nodded and they began the journey to the front porch to wait for the emissary and Spark. When they arrived, Fred stood back near the front door while Derek stood on the steps with a steadying hand on the railing. It wasn’t a long wait, thankfully, and the sight of Stiles and Rui appearing through the treeline made him smile.

Before getting to know Stiles and finding a family within his little pack of misfits, he hadn’t smiled much. Laura, as much as he’d loved her and would have done anything to protect her, was a constant reminder of his failure as a pack member. She would look at him with love in her eyes and all he saw was how much she looked like their mother; too much like their mother, who had burned alive in the house he’d grown up in. 

The road to recovery was long and he’d had a lot of people to help him along the way. Laura hadn’t been the first. Fred’s pack, back when his mother had been the alpha, had been the first people to help him heal. Then, when Laura had come back and dragged him off to New York, she had held him through nightmares and soothed him during panic attacks. Then Boyd, Erica, Isaac, and Cora had come along and given him a support system as well as responsibility. They loved him as their friend, brother, and alpha. Stiles, who had been dear to him from the beginning but not quite pack, gave him something to rely on. They had been shoved together through trauma, but they stayed together because of the want and need to heal. He still had nightmares and panic attacks - and would probably have them for the rest of his life - but he had experience dealing with them and he knew he had people to help him. It was comforting.

Stiles spotted him quickly and quickened his pace into a full-on sprint. Derek, who was familiar with Stiles’ signature Stilinski hugs, tightened his grip on the railing and caught Stiles when they collided. He stumbled, which couldn’t be avoided, but Stiles held him up and didn’t let go. Rui and Fred disappeared into the house and Derek sank into the moment, let it be just him and Stiles.

He pressed his lips to Stiles’ temple and left them there as he spoke, breathing in Stiles’ scent. “I’m alright, it’s fine.”

“I thought I’d killed you,” Stiles whispered brokenly into his shoulder and the words made his heart clench. He held Stiles tighter, the hand on the railing coming around Stiles’ back to cradle the back of his head gingerly. Stiles was trembling in his hold, like the weight of all of the knowledge and guilt he’d acquired in such a short time was too much to handle. 

Derek rocked him gently to the beat of the chimes, the hand resting between his shoulder blades giving him the strength to keep standing. He wanted to protect Stiles with a certainty and ferocity that only came with holding a member of his pack. His chest ached with want. Stiles had been possessively claimed by Scott since the beginning in a way that Derek suspected neither of them realized. Derek never had a chance of calling Stiles pack and now that Stiles and Scott were caught in a bitter fight that didn’t have an end in sight, he didn’t want to take advantage of Stiles’ pain. 

Derek was content warming Stiles’ bed and holding him close when he needed it. They didn’t have to be pack to have a bond, but it still hurt sometimes to recall. But there was still the fact that the two of them hadn’t been in a defined relationship in three months. They were too close to be friends but too tentatively to admit to being together. Stiles interacted with Derek’s pack more than his own in his absence from Beacon Hills and Derek didn’t know what that meant. Lydia had been video chatting and texting Stiles as well, but she had been distancing herself from her pack to focus on college life from what Derek had overheard. 

He wanted to assume what all of these things meant and formally accept Stiles into his pack, but Derek sincerely wanted Stiles to ask him. He wanted Stiles to make that decision for himself instead of being influenced by Derek’s desires. It was only right.

Stiles seemed to shake himself out of a daze, raising his head from Derek’s shoulder and looking up to meet his eyes. “You should be laying down,” he said, like he had personally assigned himself to be Derek’s nurse. Derek furrowed his brows. After all, he was a full-grown man and could decide if he needed to lie down.

However, his limbs were getting heavier by the minute and his eyelids were drooping. So he agreed with a nod and allowed Stiles to wrap a supportive arm around his waist. He was lead through the front door and toward the stairs, the two of them making it up with a whole bunch of patience that neither of them had and a few stair puns from Stiles that Derek decided to block out from his mind for the rest of eternity. 

They reached their bedroom door with a collective sigh of relief, Stiles turning the handle and leading them both inside. Derek flopped down onto the bed, his limbs burning with exertion and his body practically begging for some rest. Stiles looked like a kicked puppy standing across the room, clearly seeing a victim. But Derek hadn’t seen himself as a victim in a long time and he wasn’t about to let Stiles do it either. 

“Get over here,” he said gruffly, tugging off his shirt with a brief struggle before rolling onto his side to face the window. He closed his eyes and listened to the rustle of clothing and the tap of footsteps against the hardwood. The footsteps stopped on the other side of the bed, silence filling the air before Stiles finally climbed in next to him. 

Stiles’ chest pressed to Derek’s back securely, one pale arm wrapping around Derek’s middle while the other supported his head. It was a comforting position, one that the two of them had adopted while on the road. He’d never been the little spoon before Stiles, always seen as too big or too masculine. Stiles, as thin and visually weak as he seemed, had a compulsion to protect his loved ones and had a convenient ability to pin Derek to him when they both needed it. Neither of them had much to complain about in the sleeping and cuddling department.

“I bonded you,” Stiles whispered, breaking the silence between them, “with my Spark. I didn’t mean to. But now Rui thinks that I need to be accepted into your pack so that I don’t keep hurting you, and I really don’t want to keep making you weak like this. It’s scary.”

It took a lot for Stiles to admit something was scary. The word itself coming out of his mouth seemed ridiculous. However, Derek could hear the waver in his voice and the quickness of his heartbeat. Accepting Stiles into his pack like this was less than ideal and it made Derek a bit queasy, thinking that he was doing this out of guilt or responsibility.

“Do you want that?” Derek asked, his tongue clumsy in his mouth. "Or is it out of obli-?"

“Of course I do!” Stiles interrupted, like the idea of not wanting to be in Derek’s pack was ridiculous. His heartbeat was steady and the barebones of a link formed in Derek’s chest, alongside the links connecting him to Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Cora, and Chris. That, at least, comforted him enough to believe that Stiles was telling the truth. Derek felt drunk on a dream that he'd barely let himself consider. 

Derek rolled over and their faces were so close that their noses brushed. “Then I, Alpha Hale, accept you, Mieczysław Stilinski, into my pack,” he murmured, the words he had ached to speak for months finally becoming a reality. He swallowed, his voice roughening as he asked, "Do you accept?"

"I accept," Stiles said, his voice strong and his smile wide. The link snapped into existence within the span of a moment and Stiles gasped, the arm wrapped around Derek tightening briefly before the wave of emotion passed. “Was that _them_?”

“The pack?” Derek asked, feeling a bit dazed but doing his best to keep it together. Stiles nodded. “The select few of them that keep the connection open. Soon you’ll be able to distinguish them.”

Stiles’ forehead wrinkled like he was trying to focus on who was who but couldn’t quite get it. Derek wondered if Scott had ever formally accepted Stiles or even Lydia into his pack, and the likely answer created red-hot anger in his chest that he forced down. “Who are they?” 

“Cora, Erica, and Isaac,” Derek replied, leaning in to nuzzle his head into the crook of Stiles’ neck. His eyes were closed and his jaw ached as he suppressed a yawn. The shock of his pack becoming one person bigger faded into the exhaustion that he'd been trying to shove down. “Cora doesn’t usually keep her link open, but Erica must have told her we were on another pack’s territory. She’s monitoring us just as much as we’re monitoring them.”

“That’s so cool,” Stiles whispered in awe, one hand raking through Derek’s hair.

“Hmm,” Derek hummed, then sank into sleep to the sound of Stiles’ murmuring and the warm feeling of Stiles’ connection in his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles tries to recover from what's happened and has a nightmare.

Stiles reveled in the warm connection to his new-found pack that spread from his chest to the tips of his toes. If he focused hard enough, he could see five fragile, golden strings leading west and disappearing only inches from where they started at his ribs. They were like spider webs, glistening in the afternoon sunlight.

Derek, who had fallen asleep nearly two hours before to the sound of Stiles’ excited rambling, was curled into Stiles’ side and making himself as small as possible. A thin crimson string, brighter than the others, ran from Stiles’ chest to Derek’s and shifted with each individual breath between them. Seeing the physical connection that tied him to his new alpha created a complicated emotion that he wasn’t quite able to untangle. He was certainly happy; over the moon about being in Derek’s pack. However, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty over jumping from pack to pack so quickly. He knew Scott had hurt him badly, so badly that he would probably never look at him the same, but he would miss being in the same pack as Lydia. 

Lydia, the smart woman that she was, had made friends with Cora and Erica in the months before they graduated. The three of them were now thick as thieves and, together, could probably take over the government without too much of a fuss. Stiles and Derek weren’t positive that they weren’t planning on it with Lydia going into mathematics, Erica going into law, and Cora becoming a cop. Derek, as much as he tried to hide it, was extremely proud of all of them. 

Cora had finished her time at the police academy within the last couple of weeks and had gone out with her graduating class for drinks. In the process of celebrating, she had sent Derek a drunk voicemail of her crying in the bar bathroom, which had been a whole two minutes of Cora sniffling pitifully, talking about their family, and asking Derek if he thought their dad was proud of her. Derek, when he had shaken himself out of a stupor, pulled into a gas station parking lot that night and disappeared behind the building for a long time. Stiles didn’t ask what Derek had said in his voicemail and Derek seemed to be happy to keep it to himself. It was personal, and Stiles understood that.

No one had talked about it since and Cora had found her place doing desk work at the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department, only nineteen and not permitted to carry a gun until she was twenty-one. Stiles wished his dad had lived to see Cora be accepted into the department that he had worked hard to keep running, but he liked to think that Michael and his dad were shoulder-to-shoulder upstairs keeping an eye on Cora. 

Stiles ran a free, gentle hand through Derek’s dark hair, watching as the strands slid through his fingers. His other hand held the book Derek had left on the nightstand, the book that he had been trying to read for two hours. Derek had flat-out refused to let Stiles touch his hair for months, even as it had grown to lengths Stiles had never seen him with. After all, Stiles’ method of cutting his own hair was picking a random clipper guard and going to town. He supposed it wasn’t unreasonable that Derek was apprehensive. 

What was really at the top of the list was the two of them getting a real shower. They had agreed that morning — which felt like an eternity ago — that they would take a shower that day, but Derek was fast asleep and Stiles wasn’t prepared to stew in his own filth out of chivalry. So he squirmed out of Derek’s hold, placed a kiss on his furrowed brow, retrieved his toiletries and clothes, and slipped into the bathroom. 

It was a fairly large room, with two sinks, a clawfoot tub, and a cheval mirror with a lavishly carved wooden frame. Stiles felt like he was in a cheesy, badly written romance novel. He half expected Derek to burst in the door shirtless and carrying a sword.

He made quick work of his clothes and turned on the water, withdrawing his hand when he realized that the water was ice-cold. He stood in front of the large oval mirror as the water warmed and felt torn at the image before him. He wasn’t as marred as a human who ran with wolves probably should have been, but he had certainly seen his fair share of wounds and blood. His hands were covered in tiny scars of their own, his ribs sported four pink parallel scars from the alpha pack’s visit, and dozens of other minuscule marks were speckled over his legs and arms. 

He was proud of his scars and how he’d earned them; how he’d protected his pack with everything he had. But sometimes he wondered about Derek and how he would feel about the scars on Stiles’ body. He wondered if they would hurt him, or confuse him. Derek didn’t like the people he cared about being hurt, didn’t like seeing what he considered a failure on his part. Stiles, who often felt the same way, had struggled to try to help Derek in that department. His fear kept him from removing his shirt in Derek’s presence, kept him from helping when he got hurt. He couldn’t bear to see the shame and heartbreak in Derek’s hazel eyes, so he hid himself from him. 

He turned his head away from the mirror and reached his hand under the tap, sighing in relief when warm water ran over his palm. He put in the drain stopper and stepped into the tub, lowering himself into the little bit of water that had accumulated. He draped his arms over the sides and leaned his head back against the hard porcelain, closing his eyes and feeling the water rise past his thighs and hips. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d treated himself with a bath; the last few months had been mostly showers in motels and sink baths. This was the kind of luxury he had forced himself to not miss for the sake of his sanity. 

He let himself relax and soak until the water reached his ribs, sitting up when it did and shutting the water off. He used Derek’s soap, the kind that was completely natural and probably cost more than he was willing to pay. It easily washed away the layer of grime he’d accumulated in the past week, leaving his skin pink and smelling like Derek. It was comforting, especially after the last few hours. He washed his hair with his own soap, the kind that his dad used to use, and tried to not think too deeply about his dad’s hugs.

Stiles hurried out of the bath and took out the drain plug as soon as the soap was rinsed from his shaggy hair, trying to shake himself out of thoughts that he didn’t want to linger on. It felt good to dry the water from his hair and skin, and even better to slip on clean clothes. He pulled on jeans, the ones that made his ass look fantastic, and a plain blue shirt from junior year that didn’t quite fit anymore and stretched over his chest. It had been a long time since he’d felt even faintly attractive, too focused on the turmoil he felt on the inside to focus on the outside. But now, standing in the mirror with his pale skin tanned from the sun and his limbs sinewy instead of scrawny, he felt mature and handsome in a way that wasn’t familiar. 

He smiled, met his own eyes in the glass, and bent down to gather his things. He carried his towel and clothes downstairs, his bare feet sliding across the cold floorboards clumsily as he reached the landing, and then the first floor. He didn’t quite know where the water and dryer were, but perks of staying in a house full of werewolves included being heard when you mutter, “Where the hell am I supposed to drop this crap off?”

A red-headed woman, the same one that had fed him during breakfast, strode through a doorway and snatched the pile of clothes and the towel from his grasp with a disgruntled mutter. He didn’t quite catch what she said, but he got the gist. People were bustling through the house, most of them in the midst of one task or another and some of them in wolf form lounging in a pack of sunlight or wandering the first floor for something to do. Stiles followed the redhead through the chaos, into the mudroom that held the back door, an abundance of boots, and a washing machine. 

She looked him dead in the eye, said, “My name’s Ada and I won’t show you again,” dropped the clothes back in his arms, and walked away, but not before adding, “The clothesline is outside.”

Then she disappeared through the doorway and left him alone. He figured out how to use the powder laundry detergent eventually, but not before he had spilled a bit onto his hands and the floor. When he had successfully added his clothes to the ones already in there and started the machine, he sighed in relief and fumbled his way back into the kitchen with as much grace as he could muster. There were two plates and his phone waiting on the island, one plate filled with an abundance of potato chips and two sandwiches while the other had a handful of chips and one flimsy, thin sandwich. Stiles knew which one was his and couldn’t think of it as unfair, especially when he had enjoyed breakfast and nearly killed his alpha within a half-hour. His phone, on the other hand, he’d tossed away in distress and frustration that morning. He was thankful that someone had picked it up and returned it.

He tucked his phone into his pocket and picked up the two plates to carry upstairs, carefully placing his feet on each floorboard and step to make sure he didn’t worsen his reputation by breaking plates and creating a mess. He eventually made it to their bedroom door, placing Derek’s plate on top of his to free up a hand. He opened the door and separated the plates to reveal his crumbled chips and crushed his sandwich, which didn’t bother him as much as it probably would have before leaving home. Derek, who had been curled up tightly when he’d left, was sprawled across the bed like some kind of deep-sea starfish. He still looked exhausted, his skin paler than Stiles was used to, but he looked better. It made Stiles less guilty about waking him up.

He sat down the plates on the bedside table, leaning over the bed to shake Derek awake gently. He didn’t shake him too hard, knowing from past experience that a startled Derek wasn’t a pleasant Derek, especially one barely conscious. Thankfully, Derek woke with a little sniffle and a fluttering of his lashes, unfocused eyes peering up at Stiles in confusion. 

“Is it morning?” Derek mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He reached out toward Stiles, his fingers flexing like he was a toddler grasping for a toy. Derek hooked an arm around Stiles’ waist when he got impatient, pulling him onto the bed and into his arms without much of an issue. Clearly, Stiles was weak-willed and Derek had regained a bit of his strength while sleeping. 

“It’s actually noon,” Stiles corrected, hands splaying across Derek’s bare chest, “and time for lunch.”

“Hmm,” Derek hummed, nuzzling his head in Stiles’ neck and stroking his fingertips over Stiles’ nonexistent curves. His hands settled on Stiles’ hips, his hum turning appreciative. “I like these jeans.”

Stiles, who wasn’t complaining about Derek’s affection or appreciation, patted Derek’s chest and laughed at his statement. “And I would like it if you ate lunch for me. Then, after you eat, you can tell me more about how much you like my jeans.”

Derek’s grip loosened and Stiles wriggled away, sitting up to retrieve their plates. Derek, looking vaguely interested in what Stiles had to offer, sat up against the headboard and accepted the plate his bed-mate held out. He immediately shoved a handful of chips into his mouth, which wasn’t as surprising as it was hilarious. Derek didn’t pay any attention to his snickering, instead proceeding to shovel the rest of the chips left on his plate into his mouth and moving on to the two sandwiches Stiles assumed were calling his name.

Stiles, not really that hungry, picked at his crushed chips and the ham hanging out of the sides of his own sandwich. It didn’t take long for Derek to scarf down the two sandwiches he’d been given and deal with the consequences (i.e. hiccups). While Derek sat at the top of the bed, his shoulders jumping every few seconds with a “hic”, Stiles smiled at him indulgently and cleaned his plate to appease Derek’s mother-hen nature. 

The hiccups stopped eventually and Stiles gathered up their dishes, only to lay them back down on the nightstand when Derek held out an arm. After all, a quick cuddle with a sleepy werewolf was preferable to a bunch of other ‘weres watching him like he would attack them at any minute. So, Stiles crawled into bed in his jeans and t-shirt and happily tucked himself into Derek’s side. 

The day had barely started and yet it felt like he’d been awake for days, so he couldn’t be blamed for being lulled into a doze by Derek’s warmth and the hand rubbing his back. After all, Derek was a world-class cuddler and Stiles had been the focus of his affections for months. He must have developed a Pavlov response to Derek’s back rubs or something. His eyes fluttered shut, his body relaxed against Derek’s side, and the last thing he recalled was a press of lips to the crown of his head.

-

_ There were ropes around his wrists and screaming. So much screaming. _

_ He looked up and there was a platform, people in lines leading to the stairs on the side. He was in line, it seemed, his rope connecting to the ropes restricting everyone else. _

_ There was a man in furs. He stood on the platform, yanked a woman up, and looped a necklace of rope around her neck. _

_ She dropped and didn’t move. Didn’t squirm. She watched him with intelligent eyes. The screams still rang in his ears, men and women and children crying out. _

_ He ducked his head, tried to cover his eyes, and a pool of water stared back at him from the ground. A woman. _

_ She had short dark hair and severe eyes. Her lips parted and she spoke. _

_ ”Pull yourself out, Spark.” _

-

He sat up with a gasp, hands rubbing his wrists frantically as if searching for the ropes that had kept his hands tied. There were two more hands on his shoulders and one more on his back, thumbs pressing against the base of his neck, and Stiles couldn’t quite decipher if they were comforting or disquieting. So he buried his head in his hands and took deep breaths that made his body quiver with effort. The hand on his back disappeared and reappeared on the top of his head, his body jolting away in surprise. The hands on his shoulders, the ones he thought were Derek, pulled him back against a firm chest and wound around his body like a blanket. This kind of caress was definitely comforting. 

The hand on his head, relentless in its contact, seemed to warm. The images from his dream — or nightmare — came back to him in flashes in the back of his eyelids and he curled himself closer to Derek, his breath coming out in gasps as the images moved quicker and quicker in a loop. The hand yanked itself from his head and the images stopped, leaving him in a wheezing heap.

He opened his eyes and peered up through his hair, Rui — the woman he'd seen in the puddle — standing tall on the side of his bed with a look on her face that told him everything he needed to know. Something was wrong.

“They know you’re here.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was dark, nearly eleven, and Stiles had been stuck in that nightmare for roughly ten hours, watching as people were hung and marched to their deaths. It had felt like moments.

The spark and alpha pair sat against the headboard, the thinner male wrapped up in Derek’s arms to soothe the shivers that were making Stiles’ body quiver. He couldn’t be sure if it was because of the cold or the dream he just had, but Stiles accepted the affection and warmth either way and focused his attention on Rui, who sat on the edge of the bed in her Havard sweater with a troubled expression that made her seem years older. 

“The Ellis pack was one of the first packs to settle on American land and venture West, in 1690,” she began, like she was reading a eulogy. “The land was already claimed for France probably a bit less than a decade before, but the Ellis ancestors didn’t care for land claims made by men. After all, Nebraska wouldn’t really become Nebraska until 200 years later, and the fighting for the land wouldn’t stop in the years between.

“The Ellis alpha and her mate made a home here, with acres upon acres to accommodate their growing pack. The years passed, settlers found their way onto Ellis land, and the alpha’s mate became wary of those with power similar to his own. He had been charged with protecting his pack right before leaving Europe and his magic, presumably, had driven him mad during the pack’s time at sea, trying to keep everyone alive.”

“He was a Spark,” Stiles said, voice soft.

“Yes.” She nodded gravely and Stiles knew this wasn’t going to be a happy story. “He whispered in his alpha’s ear like a snake in the grass for years. He spoke of treacherous Sparks that would do anything to claim a place at her side and magic that would crush their pack in a heartbeat. It wasn’t hard, I suspect. The land and the people were riddled with superstition about Sparks and people with magic back then. Not to mention the ‘were instincts that come into play when a Spark is accepted into a leadership position.”

Stiles furrowed his brows, parted his lips to ask, but Rui beat him to the chase.

“They’re supposed to be the heart and soul of a pack, Stiles, but a body is only supposed to have one. That’s why Ryan thought you smelled off. His instincts recognized you as an unfamiliar magical entity, like a tumor in the body of the pack, and your unchecked magic was probably making your scent hostile, or as hostile as a smell can be.”

Stiles shuddered when he recalled being at the mercy of the magenta-haired ‘wolf, remembering the brush of breath on his face. Derek brought him closer, like he thought the shudder had been from the cold. 

“As Presbyterian people traveled West, those who were found to have a Spark were captured by the pack and,” she swallowed hard, “executed. First, it was by fire, one by one at the pyre, but in the last few years of the alpha’s reign, the pack moved on to mass hangings until the Alpha died in 1776. Her mate was killed in his sleep by his own son and the killings didn’t continue, but many died and most are buried here, never returned to their families. I presume the Native Americans were blamed for their deaths.” She looked pale and her hands shook. “It sickens me to think of innocent people being punished for this pack’s wrongdoings and it sickens me to be living in the house that is built on top of the site where hundreds were hung and burned. The land is bloodstained.”

It was silent for a long moment. Then Derek said, “You said that they know Stiles is here.”

“They have been watching for years,” Rui confirmed, visibly trying to recover from the distress she was feeling, “since Kailan was accepted into the pack, even before becoming Fred’s mate. They’ve been growing stronger as the years have passed and I suspected they were planning on striking soon, when their vengeful magical energy spilled over like boiling water. But then you came along and it appears that they’re using their energy to warn you away from the land.”

“So that dream,” Stiles started, and was abruptly cut off. 

“It was them showing you what happened to them, and what they think could happen to you if you stay.”

“Why hasn’t this happened before?” Derek asked suspiciously, the arm wrapped around Stiles taut with tension. “There must have been a Spark on this land in the last 200 years.”

“There have been brief visits,” she confirmed, “but a Spark hasn’t been accepted into the pack or in a position of power since then. From what I can tell, it was an unspoken rule among the pack until Frederick broke it like the love-struck fool he is.” She gave them a hard look, though her expression had softened when she spoke of Fred. “Kailan woke them and Stiles gave them purpose. Now there’s no chance of giving them rest. They’ve immersed themselves too far into the living world.”

“What does that mean for us?” Stiles asked, sitting up and gently nudging Derek’s arms from his body.

She looked sad for a moment, like the idea of doing what needed to be done was her last choice. “We need to banish them from the land or there’s no telling what they might do.”

It was silent between them for a long time, the only noise the whistle of the wind whipping past the house. Derek, who had been Stiles’ rock through everything in the past day, rubbed his back and sent comfort through their bond.

“How did you get through to me in my sleep?” Stiles asked, his voice shaking a bit as he recalled the vividness of the screams. The thought of so many people being murdered here was enough to make him feel nauseous.

“I’m a mage,” Rui replied, looking as if she wanted to comfort him but didn’t quite know how to. “ I conduct my own magic and draw my strength from nature instead of making bonds with beings. I specialize in deception and illusion magic, the kind of stuff that makes your opponent confused and easier to take down. My inexperience is why it took so long to get into your mind and insert myself into your nightmare. I’m sorry.”

Her apology seemed genuine and her head dipped down, her eyes avoiding his at all costs. Stiles, in his short time here, had never seen her as anything other than confident. It rattled him to see such a strong individual brought down by shame.

“It’s alright,” he said with a weak grin, trying to create some humor in the midst of chaos. “It could have been worse. I could have dreamed about clowns or sitting through an endless loop of _The Notebook_.”

Derek huffed behind him and Stiles knew he’d managed to lighten the mood. Rui, through her shroud of guilt, managed a smile and a shake of her head. She stood up and seemed to gain control of herself, regaining the self-confidence that she carried like a shield. That smile Stiles had fought to draw forward disappeared and he couldn't help but feel disappointed. 

“I’ll wake Kailan and have him put temporary wards on the room,” she said, shoving her hands in her pockets. Stiles noticed for the first time that she seemed exhausted, drained from the amount of energy it took to pull Stiles from the clutches of the spirits wandering the land. “You should be able to sleep without any spiritual interruptions then.”

Then she left and closed the pale maple door behind her soundlessly, leaving Stiles and Derek alone. Stiles turned and curled up against his chest, hiding away from the shadows that lurked in the corners of the room. Derek held him like Stiles knew he would, but there was a weakness in how he held him. Derek was just as exhausted as Rui, probably even more, and Stiles’ terror had kept him awake for hours. 

“We should sleep,” Stiles said, his eyes shut tightly and his head tucked into Derek’s neck. Stiles wouldn’t be sleeping for a long time, not with the echo of the Sparks in his ears, but the least he could do was reassure Derek enough to allow him to catch a few hours.

“As you wish,” Derek said, like a knight in the stories his mother would read him as a kid, and positioned their bodies so they both laid on their sides. Stiles laughed, his teeth flashing and his shoulders shaking with the effort to keep it down, and he wondered if his dad would be happy for him; if he would be happy that Stiles had found someone he could see himself with until the end of his days. He knew they had issues and would probably be working through them and managing them for years, most likely for the rest of their lives, but Stiles was in it for the long haul. 

“I do wish,” Stiles murmured, their foreheads pressed together and his words barely audible outside his and Derek’s little world. Derek kissed him, like he knew exactly what Stiles was thinking, and pulled him flushed against his body. They kept it slow, loving, and the slide of lips against his own made Stiles want to weep in relief. Because he had someone who would take care of him and keep him on the right path. Maybe in the past few months of searching for where he belonged, he’d found his home in a person and not a place.

The kiss ended, eventually, and a buzz of magic in the air made Stiles concerned that he’d done something. But Derek smoothed out the wrinkle between his brows with the pad of his thumb and gave a huff that Stiles knew was supposed to be a laugh. “Kailan dropped by and set up the wards.”

Stiles sighed in relief and the two of them made themselves comfortable, settling into the lumpy mattress that was infinitely better than the backseat of the Camaro. Derek drifted off quickly, quicker than Stiles had ever witnessed, and Stiles stayed awake for a long time with his fingertips tracing patterns into Derek’s skin.

-

Stiles woke up to the sound of Derek brushing his teeth in the bathroom, the door wide open to reveal the man in his boxers and nothing else. The sun shone through the window, making Stiles squint and roll away from the heat. It was too early, for Stiles at least, to be doing anything other than cuddling with a ‘were-heater.

It had been a long night, his eyes locked on the half-moon for a majority of it with his hand in Derek’s hair. His beloved ‘wolf had woken at some point just before dawn with a gasp, but Stiles had just held him close and whispered reassuring words in his ear. Derek, with his head tucked just above Stiles’ collarbones, drifted off eventually. If there was one good thing about being kept up by terrifying nightmares, it was that he had the opportunity to comfort Derek when he needed it most. Stiles had fallen asleep just as the sun rose and it looked like he’d gotten at least a couple of hours of sleep.

He hauled himself out of bed when the lonely lounging got boring and immediately felt the buzz of magic ripple across his skin before the wards came down. He supposed he didn’t need them anymore, what with being awake and all, but it still felt quiet without them. He’d been comforted by the thought of being protected by reliable magic, but now he felt like there were eyes on him.

Derek spat into the sink and rinsed off his toothbrush, Stiles cozying up behind him and hooking his chin over the werewolf’s right shoulder. This could substitute the early-morning cuddling he’d been denied for now, but Stiles couldn’t be held responsible for his actions later in the day with his morning ruined. He and Derek were about the same height but Derek, who was often seen as intimidating because of his muscly body type, often didn’t get the chance to be held properly. Stiles felt honored to be the self-appointed Derek cuddler.

“Mornin’.” Derek sounded rough, like he hadn’t spoken since crawling out of bed to clean himself up. His hair was wet and his skin smelled clean, a bit of an improvement from the day before when he hadn’t had a proper wash in a week. 

Stiles tucked his nose into the crook of Derek’s neck, took a deep breath, met Derek’s eyes in the little mirror above the sink, and smiled against his skin. “Good morning, Der.”

Derek’s face softened and Stiles noticed that he’d even trimmed and cleaned up his beard, the length closer to a five o’clock shadow than a rat’s nest. Stiles, his mind still a bit foggy from sleep, could admit to himself that he would miss it being so long. But he looked more put together like this, more confident. It was a good look on him and Stiles would never deny him his self-confidence. No one spoke and it was alright for a bit, the two of them reveling in the silence that only occurred during the peace before the storm.

But Derek’s face, while it had gained a fond and loving edge, hardened when the silence between them stretched too long. Stiles knew from his expression that they needed to talk and that Derek had an opinion that he knew Stiles wouldn’t like.

Stiles stepped back and Derek turned around to lean against the sink, his shoulders hunched. He looked like a man in the midst of a battle he knew he had lost. Whatever confidence he’d instilled in himself while Stiles was asleep was gone.

“I think,” Derek began, “that we should leave Nebraska.”

And then Stiles knew why Derek was so sure he would lose this fight. “No.”

“Stilesㅡ” he started again but was immediately cut off by his Spark, whose feathers were visually ruffled by the very idea.

“I can’t leave them to deal with something that’s my fault!” Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Derek’s lip pressed together tightly, like he was fighting to keep himself quiet. “I mean, I showed up and now everyone’s in danger. Leaving now would be condemning them.”

“Rui and Kailan have it under control,” Derek said, trying to be as convincing as possible, but Stiles saw right through it. His alpha was afraid. “It’s not your responsibility to atone for the sins of another pack.”

“Derek, these are your friends.” Stiles couldn’t believe that Derek would abandon them so readily at the first sign of danger. “There are children here, innocent people, and the spirits will stop at nothing to get their revenge now that they’re awake.”

“They are my friends,” Derek agreed, shoulders hunched and head hanging down. His hair hid his eyes. “But you’re pack. You’re a part of me now and losing you would be like losing a limb. I won’t sit back while you sacrifice yourself for people that would toss you aside in an _instant_.”

It hurt, watching Derek struggle with himself and his past with the future stretching out in front of him. “I won’t leave them, Derek.”

“I know,” he said, looking up to meet Stiles’ eyes. Pain shone there, among a million other emotions that made Stiles’ chest hurt. Stiles knew that Derek cared for him, knew that the two of them shared something that Stiles would never find with anyone else, but Stiles also knew the fear of losing the people you cared about. It was paralyzing and made people do things out of love that could seem ridiculous. Derek knew that kind of fear too and had lived with it for years, had let it run his life for a long time. 

Stiles bit down hard on his bottom lip and reached for Derek’s hand, but the reflection in the mirror behind the werewolf drew his gaze away from his face. There was a woman standing there, her eyes filled with anger and her hair singed. 

Her lips were moving slowly, whispering reaching his ears and words burning themselves into his brain. “ _Ellis land is soaked with magic’s blood. The wolves of the moon will join us in the place of the dead and retribution shall be given. Run, Spark, or you shall burn with them. Run_.”

“ㅡiles. Stiles!” Derek shouted, the hands gripping Stiles’ shoulders tightening and shaking him like a ragdoll. It was like he’d just been shaken from a dream, but a really unsettling dream with a half-bald prophecy-speaking witch. 

“I’m back, I’m back,” Stiles reassured breathlessly, his hands coming up to cover Derek’s. “But we need to talk to everyone, now.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! im alive and im finally updating

Stiles, Derek, Kailan, Fred, Janine, and Rui sat at the dining room table in silence. It was a beautiful room with high windows and polished china cabinets, but to be completely honest, the table looked like it was used more for arts and crafts than for pack dinners. There were lines of dried glue at the head of the table and sparkles stuck in the cracks of the wood, cracks that Stiles couldn’t help but dig into with his fingernails. He knew, deep down, that hyperfixating on ridiculous things could have been his ADHD just as easily as it could have been him coping with his anxiety. However, he preferred to not think about it at all. 

Derek’s hand was like a brand on his shoulder and the contact made him jump a few inches from his seat. The grip on his shoulder tightened and it began to feel more like a grounding presence instead of an intrusion, Stiles leaning closer to Derek and exhaling a shaky breath. He didn’t want to be so shaken up, but the sight of that woman in their bathroom mirror hovered on the edge of his vision and he couldn’t be sure if it was real or not. Rui was right; the spirits were watching and it was clear they wanted Stiles out of the way. 

The wolves and the magic-users at the table from the Ellis pack were clearly impatiently waiting for the answers that Stiles held and the reason Derek had called all of them to the dining room for a conversation. The words that he needed to explain everything were stuck in his throat and he didn’t quite know how to start. He’d prided himself on always having something to say, but that was before things had gone sideways and certain circumstances had conditioned him to keep his mouth shut when his words weren’t welcome.

Maybe all of the shit he’d seen and gone through had conditioned him too well.

He looked to Derek pleadingly and the werewolf took his hand under the table, Derek’s thumb brushing the space between his pointer finger and thumb. His body, which had been taut like a bowstring, relaxed just a bit and the words stuck in his throat seemed looser.

“There─” He swallowed, his tongue running over his teeth in a habit of frustration. “There was a woman in our mirror. In the bathroom. Her hair was singed, like she’d been caught in a fire, and she looked so _angry_. She told me something. It- it felt like a prophecy. Like it was gonna come true.”

He felt so weak, being torn apart mentally by something so fleeting, but the look in her eyes as she’d begged him to run made his chest feel like it was caving it. Derek, who must have felt his distress through their pack bond, wrapped an arm around him and pulled him as close as he could get with two armrests between them. Stiles took to his comfort like a duck to water, keeping his eyes averted from anyone who was part of the other pack. He could feel their eyes on him though, among others, and he didn’t like the feeling.

“She said that the land is soaked with the blood of magic,” he continued, “and that they were going to kill everyone to get their revenge.” He closed his eyes and saw her staring him down from the back of his eyelids. It made him shake. “They want me to leave you all to die or- or I think they’ll kill me too.” _And Derek._

He finally lifted his gaze to meet Fred’s eyes and the man looked guilty, as if the things Stiles had seen were his fault and his responsibility to handle. Kailan, who sat to Fred’s left, was staring down Stiles intently like he was seeing him for the first time. Stiles wasn’t quite sure if he liked being seen by Kailan. 

“We need to do the banishment soon,” Rui said from her place at Fred’s right, her face devoid of emotion and her demeanor completely professional. This must have been what everyone else saw, the scary emissary that could and would bring down empires to keep her pack safe. Deaton had none of the fire or passion that Rui possessed and that is where he failed in protecting Derek’s family. 

“You don’t have the energy for that big of a spell, especially with the spirits gaining so much power at such a fast pace,” Kailan said, his eyes never moving from Stiles’ face. He looked so much more exhausted than he did when Stiles and Derek had arrived, which was something he never thought he would witness. Stiles wondered if the effort of keeping the ward up around their room for the night had drained him more than he’d anticipated. 

“We don’t have any other options unless we want to watch this entire pack be slaughtered,” Janine said, her hand coming down onto the wooden tabletop hard. Stiles restrained himself from flinching, but the sudden sound made Derek tense at his side. He relaxed as soon as he’d realized what happened, but Stiles couldn’t help but wrap his ankle around Derek’s and offer his own kind of support. The two of them were wrapped up in each other, Derek’s arm tucking Stiles against his side and their ankles linking them together. They were a united front and they would stay that way.

“We could begin training now,” Rui said and her voice broked no argument. She looked to Stiles, her grey eyes boring into his head like she could see everything he was thinking. “Stiles is strong, we’ve seen it. He could be a powerful ally. With his spark, my offensive spells, and Kailan’s ward and rune magic, we could win.”

“Or drag him down with your doomed crusade,” Derek accused and Stiles’ lips tightened. “Your pack killed all of these people and you’re treating them like a nuisance, like an infestation. This is _your_ responsibility.” Derek’s free hand rose and a clawed finger pointed at the other alpha, his jaw set in anger. 

Fred didn’t look surprised by Derek’s indignation, only resigned. “This is our fight and if you and your Spark wish to leave, then we won’t stop you. But know that Rui had only asked for his help because she thinks we will never win without him, and I trust her judgment.”

“Let’s say I stay,” Stiles spoke up, his voice trembling on the first word before strengthening. He sat up and Derek’s arm fell from his shoulders. “Can I draw power from my pack when they’re so far away. I mean, they’re more than a thousand miles west in California.”

“Drawing power from them when they’re so far wouldn’t do anyone any good,” Rui said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the tabletop. Sparkles from the kids’ arts and crafts clung to her sleeves. It was a Yale sweatshirt today. “Your Spark bond is new and your pack bond is even newer. You haven’t emotionally or physically bonded with your pack like a new Spark normally does and it has made the bond you and your pack share as thin as a piece of thread. Any kind of excessive magic without them being closer could severe the bond and that would be very painful for all of you.”

“Then how do you suggest using his magic to win?” Janine asked, looking from Stiles to Rui like they had the answers. Stiles had no idea where the emissary was going with any of her ideas, but it seemed like neither he nor Derek would like it. The eyes he felt locked on him increased, but no one at the table moved their heads to stare.

“We want to break Stiles and Derek’s pack and Spark bond temporarily and bond Stiles to Janine,” Fred said, the words coming out in a rush. He looked like he was bracing for whatever was coming next and he was right to.

Derek leaped to his feet, the wooden chair he was sitting in clattering against the floor after it was knocked back. Stiles, on the other hand, was pale at the thought of cutting the delicate bonds that started in his chest and extended west. He wouldn’t let them take them, not for anything. 

He could feel Erica and Boyd, both of them warm with contentment and happiness. He liked to think of them together when their strands felt like that, even if he’d barely had them for a day. Cora’s felt lukewarm but a bit distant, like she was focused on something that she felt was important. Maybe she was at work or going through paperwork she’d taken home for her day off. Isaac’s felt muted. He wasn’t blocked off, but it was clear he wasn’t quite conscious. He deserved some sleep after everything he’d gone through and it gave him comfort to know that he was finding a bit of peace. Chris was blocked off, like he’d been for the entirety of Stiles’ bond with the pack, but the shadow of his presence let Stiles know that he was alive and well. 

Derek’s was the most prominent, the red line connecting their chests bright in his peripheral. Stiles could feel the rage and the possessiveness that plagued his mind, but fear and protectiveness lingered at the edges. It was clear that Derek was as likely to agree as Stiles was. 

“You can’t do that,” Derek snarled, his canines lengthening and his claws extending. His eyes were alpha-crimson and everyone at the table, excluding Stiles and Kailan, stared up at him from their seats with wide eyes. Kailan looked as pale and shaken as Stiles, staring at his alpha like he’d committed some kind of betrayal. Stiles supposed Fred did by suggesting they bring another spark into the pack. 

“No,” Kailan said shakily, his pale skin seeming even paler and his sunken eyes looking shiny with angry tears. “You can’t.”

“We can,” Rui said with a determined edge to her voice, “if absolutely necessary.”

“I won’t do it,” Stiles said, standing and grasping Derek’s hand, making them a united front once again. “I will stay and help you, but I won’t break my bond with my pack. That’s too much for you to ask from us.” Stiles paused and looked to Kailan. “Or your Spark.”

Fred looked to his left at his mate, the man he’d chosen to lead his pack alongside, and all of the resolve he’d had moments before crumbled before Stiles’ eyes. Stiles knew that Fred was seeing the strain and the hurt that made Kailan’s face crumble. Kailan was being _seen_ and that was enough to change Fred’s mind. 

“You’re right,” the alpha said, his voice soft and his hand reaching out to cup his mate’s face delicately. Kailan nuzzled into his hand, his eyes closing. “You’re right. We can’t.”

Derek’s eyes faded back to the familiar hazel that Stiles loved so much and his claws receded. They had come to an understanding. Janine, the calmest one at the table, studied all of them with an interest that made Stiles feel like a mouse in a maze. She was Fred’s second for a reason and Stiles didn’t think it was because she was his sister. Rui, on the other hand, looked tense. She was the only one of them not convinced that breaking his and Derek’s bond wasn’t the best course of action. 

“You’re letting sentiment get in the way of your duty to protect this pack,” she said coldly, facing her alpha with no fear of the repercussions. She was clearly determined to protect this pack even if it was going to harm people in the process. Even as she was fighting to hurt him in the worst way possible, Stiles couldn’t help but respect her for her dedication. 

“A lack of compassion is exactly what got our pack into this mess, Rui,” he said softly, his eyes still locked on Kailan’s face like he couldn’t bring himself to look away. “I will not make the same mistakes as my ancestors and urge you not to either.”

Stiles saw something flash on Rui’s face, like she was reminded of the pain the Ellis pack had caused because of the fear they’d felt. Stiles would wager that she was fighting her own fear, her fear of being left alone.

“We can bring our pack here,” Stiles said, lowering himself down into his chair slowly. Derek slipped his hand from Stiles’ and retrieved his chair from the floor, sitting down next to him calmly as if his outburst hadn’t happened. “They can take the next flight and we can begin training when they get here. No bond-breaking, no struggle.”

“You think you can solidify your pack bonds enough to fight hundreds of spirits?” Rui asked, looking unimpressed but slightly intrigued. 

“I have you to help me,” Stiles pointed out, his shoulders shrugging helplessly. His eyes slid to Kailan, who looked back in interest. “That has to be enough.”

He could feel Derek growing tired through the bond and he was reminded that the alpha should have been resting instead of arguing. He looked to his alpha and tried to send his own concern through their bond, but Derek ignored him in favor of paying attention to the others at the table. _Stubborn bastard._

“Bring your pack,” Rui said, her eyes narrowing into slits, “and we’ll see, Spark.” 

He nodded solemnly and got back onto his feet clumsily, gripping Derek’s arm to haul him along. Derek, being as soft as a marshmallow, followed along like he couldn’t launch Stiles across the room with his pinky toe. 

“Excuse us,” Derek said politely, while Stiles forewent any kind of courtesy and dragged him from the dining room and toward the stairs. They stopped at the bottom, Stiles gripping Derek’s upper arms and looking into his eyes sternly.

“Go upstairs and get some rest,” he said firmly. Derek looked startled at the amount of force Stiles put into his command, his instincts obviously making it difficult for him to follow them without protest. “Go upstairs and get some rest _please_ ,” Stiles corrected himself, offering a comforting smile that was a bit too shaky to be believable. 

Derek looked concerned, like he often did when Stiles was involved, but placed a kiss on his forehead and nodded agreeably. “I’ll rest, as long as you remember to be careful.”

Stiles grinned and this time it looked real. “I’m always careful, alpha.”

Derek rolled his eyes and for a moment he looked young, years of trauma stripped away to reveal someone who could have been as young as Stiles. “Of course you are,” he huffed out, brushing his hand against the side of the Spark’s neck in an act that Stiles had come to recognize as scenting. Then he was gone, hurrying up the stairs to their room. 

Stiles turned to return to the dining room, but Kailan blocked the way. He looked fragile, like a gust of wind could knock him over, but the look on his face indicated that he was anything but. 

“We need to talk.”

-

The two of them stood on the front porch, Kailan leaning against sturdy the railing and looking up at the fragile windchimes that swayed in the wind. They were made of seashells, pieces of string, and sticks the little ones had found out in the woods. Adam had worked with them all day to put them together and Kailan had carved the detection runes into the shells himself. 

It seemed like they never stopped going off nowadays, signally an unfamiliar presence that sent chills down his spine. He wondered, briefly, what it would be like to detach himself from the wards and destroy the runes. He wondered if he would feel better, younger. Or maybe it would only bring pain and shame. The exhaustion that weighed on him brought strange emotions and even stranger ideas.

“What did you want to talk about?” Stiles asked from behind him, the other Spark leaning against the house right next to the front door. It looked like he was waiting for his chance to escape and Kailan wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have done the same.

“I want to talk about your pack,” Kailan replied. The atmosphere became tense as soon as the words left his mouth and he didn’t have to turn around to know that Stiles’ eyes were narrowed and his lips thinned. He was still on edge, the anxiety that had clung to him like a shroud during their meeting still hanging on by a thread.

“What about my pack?” Stiles’ voice was wary. Kailan didn’t want to spark that reaction in him, no matter his feelings about his presence and his alpha. Stiles was there to help and scaring him off would only hurt the pack.

“Are you close to them?” Kailan asked, his shoulders hunching and his eyes dropping from the chimes. “Emotionally?”

Stiles hesitated, clearly thinking over the different members of his newly acquired pack. “I’d like to think so.”

Kailan smiled, but it was twisted and pained. He felt another presence enter the house, watch them from the front window. He couldn't bring himself to turn and look, make eye contact with someone who'd been long dead but continued to walk Ellis land. “Good. Not having that connection to them will make you weak and,” he swallowed, “from what Rui tells us, you’re our last hope.” 

He thought of his own pack, the dozens of rope-like tethers extending from his chest, and only felt sadness. He didn’t have that emotional connection, not anymore, but it didn’t stop him from caring for his pack members deeply. He couldn’t protect them with offensive magic or claws, but he could protect them in his own way. He just hoped it was enough.

It was quiet behind him for a long time before Stiles asked, “Are you close with your pack?”

Kailan laughed coldly and shook his head, drawing himself up to stand up straight. “You should tend to your alpha, call your pack. We don’t have much time to prepare.”

Then Stiles was gone from the porch, finding no reason to linger when danger hovered on the edge of everyone’s consciousness like a shadow. Kailan could hear his voice very faintly through the screen door, the other Spark clearly speaking into a phone. It made him smile, and for once it was genuine.

“ _─ydia? We really need your help_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment and/or a kudos!


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